


the skies i'm under

by sakurablossomcreamlatte



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Friendship, Gen, I have feels about Dipper and Wendy's friendship OK, That's basically what this is, now featuring some Wendy & Mabel and Wendy & Stan bonding, occasional (mostly mild) swears, platonic friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25539925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakurablossomcreamlatte/pseuds/sakurablossomcreamlatte
Summary: Dipper and Wendy over the summer.Chapter 5: breakup or not, Wendy still has to go to work.
Relationships: Wendy Corduroy & Dipper Pines, Wendy Corduroy & Mabel Pines, Wendy Corduroy & Stan Pines
Comments: 36
Kudos: 45





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know what to call these... I just have a lot of feelings about Dipper and Wendy as individual characters and then their friendship and how beautifully the series handled it and I kept thinking of different scenarios so I ended up writing them down. if you're reading I hope you enjoy them!

It’s a slow early June afternoon at the Mystery Shack when Stan says the words that kick off what will end up being one of the more memorable summers of Wendy Corduroy’s life thus far. 

“Alright, you two, listen up.”

Wendy glances up from her magazine, and Soos immediately drops his screwdriver - and the light fitting he was holding - as he snaps to attention. “Yes, Mr. Pines!” 

Stan groans. “I said listen up, not drop everything.”

  
  
“Sorry, Mr. Pines.” Soos looks genuinely remorseful, and Stan sighs. 

“Anyway.” He clears his throat. “You two are gettin’ some new coworkers.” Wendy sets her magazine down as she leans forward on the counter, curiosity piqued, and Soos’ eyes widen. “My, uh - niece, and nephew. They’re, uh, comin’ to Gravity Falls for the summer.” 

Wendy’s about to open her mouth to ask, but Soos beats her to it. “Dude, no way! You have a niece and nephew?! That’s awesome!” 

“How come you never said anything about them before?” Wendy asks. She can almost imagine Stan as an uncle - a really crooked one. Probably the bad influence of the family… but then that begs the question why anyone would even want him around their kids, let alone putting them in his care for an entire summer.

It occurs to her that it could be a punishment. 

“Hey, I don’t ask about your family, do I?” Stan shoots back, and Wendy just shrugs. 

“I mean, we’re kinda your neighbours…”

“How old are they?” Soos asks, eyes shining in excitement. “Are they like you? ‘Cause man, that’d be so awesome -”

“Twelve - they’re twins. They’re actually my great niece and nephew,” Stan cuts him off, and Wendy raises an eyebrow. “Brother’s grandkids.” He takes his fez off and runs a hand through his grey hair, almost nervously, before replacing it. “I haven’t seen ‘em in years, but then last night their dad - my nephew - just called and asked if I’d take ‘em for the summer. Somethin’ about ‘em needing fresh air.” He snorts derisively. “Guess it ain’t fresh enough down in California.” 

“Twelve?” Wendy asks incredulously. “You’re gonna make twelve year olds work here? From _California_ _?”_ A mental image is already forming in her mind of a pair of tanned, hipster-looking blonde kids attempting to order egg white substitute omelettes and soy milk at Greasy’s. 

“Hey, Soos was twelve when he started workin’ here,” Stan counters defensively, and Soos nods in enthusiastic agreement. 

“Yeah, and look at me now!” He gestures proudly to his tool belt. “I’m living the dream!” 

“Uh… sure you are.” Stan glances out the window - just as the afternoon tour bus rolls in. “Uhp - wouldn’t you know it, tourists!” He whirls around, clapping his large hands together. “Alright people, showtime!” 

Soos immediately rushes off, presumably to re-hang the velvet curtains in the museum, and Wendy groans as she closes the magazine and slides it under the counter. 

“Hey, Mr. Pines.” Stan turns around from where he was adjusting his eye patch in the mirror. “Just so you know, I’m not babysitting.” 

She means it. Her dad’s made her ‘keep an eye’ on her shitty little brothers Kevin and Gus far too many times over the last couple of years, and she’s not about to add Stan’s kids to the rota. 

Stan simply shrugs. “Give ‘em a chance, Wendy. I ain’t seen ‘em in years, but they’re probably still cute.” He turns back to the mirror to tweak the tassel on his fez with a sly grin. “Who knows, they might grow on ya.” 

Wendy’s not holding out much hope.

* * *

When Wendy and Soos arrive to work exactly a week to that conversation later, there’s a girl and a boy standing in the middle of the gift shop floor, glancing around awkwardly, and since they don’t open for another half hour Wendy can only deduce that they’re Stan’s niece and nephew. 

They’re both short - they look closer to ten than twelve, actually. They don’t look anything like she expected them to, either - their respective masses of hair are fluffy and brown instead of blonde and shiny, and the girl’s cascades down her back and is held off her face with a pink headband while the boy’s is mostly crammed under a khaki trucker hat. They also (mercifully) don’t appear to have inherited their little button noses from Stan’s side of the family - in fact, there’s no resemblance to Stan at all. They’d look like a fairly average pair if it weren’t for the fact that the girl is wearing quite literally the most blindingly besequinned rainbow-striped sweater Wendy has ever seen. 

“Hi!” The girl twin immediately jumps into action when they enter, waving her arms wildly as she bounces to a halt in front of them. The sequins catch the light in different places, and the overall effect is kind of awesome - but it's also hurting Wendy's eyes a little. “I’m Mabel! And I’m here to,” with this, she stamps her heels on the wooden floor, and her bright pink sneakers start flashing, _“light_ up your lives!” 

Soos applauds enthusiastically, already captivated by this wacky kid and her nauseatingly bright personal brand of cuteness. 

Wendy decides she likes her, too - once her vision has recovered. It seems impossible not to.

  
  
“Hey, Mabel.” Wendy smiles at her, and in return Mabel offers her a brace-filled grin bright enough to power the whole town. “I’m Wendy, and this is Soos. We work for your uncle.” She turns her attention to the boy twin, who’s standing awkwardly a little way behind with his hands in the pockets of his vest. “So what’s your name then, man? Abel?” 

The kid’s face flushes underneath the peak of his hat, and he yanks one hand free to offer an awkward wave. “Oh - uh, hey. I’m Dipper.”

Wendy waits for him to say he’s joking, but as the moment stretches out between them it becomes apparent that he’s not.

_What were these kids' parents drinking?!_

So much for average. 

“That’s not his real name,” Mabel supplies helpfully. “It’s actually -”

“Mabel!” The artist formerly known as Dipper hisses with an imploring look, and Mabel obediently closes her mouth as he turns back to them. “Um, yeah, it’s a nickname, but - everyone’s called me that since we were little. Just call me Dipper.” 

“Great to meet you, dudes,” Soos greets. “Welcome to the Mystery Shack!” He spreads his arms wide with a triumphant grin. “The greatest place on earth!”

Dipper raises an eyebrow, casting a skeptical glance at the Stan bobbleheads on the shelf by the door. “Is it?” 

The unexpected snark in his tone makes Wendy snigger in spite of herself. “I mean, there’s worse places you could spend a summer… but there’s probably better places, too.” She takes her seat behind the cash register. “Stan said you guys are from California?” 

“Yep!” Mabel answers brightly. “Took the bus up yesterday!” She flops dramatically over the barrel next to the cash desk. “And it took six whole hours, I was _soooo_ bored!” 

“You spent three of them sleeping on my leg,” Dipper says tersely. His tone indicates that it’s not unusual behaviour for his sister. 

“Haha, yeah,” Mabel guffaws without a hint of remorse. “And then you fell down the steps when we got off.” 

“Mabel, not in front of - ugh,” Dipper sighs resignedly before looking back up at Wendy and Soos. He’s barely tall enough to see over the edge of the counter. “Anyway, yeah. We’re from Piedmont.” 

“Never heard of it,” Wendy admits, as Soos nods in agreement, but the twins don’t look particularly surprised.

“It’s about twenty minutes out from San Francisco,” Dipper clarifies. “That’s where our parents work.” 

“The parents who turfed you up here for the summer, huh?” Wendy leans forward on the counter. “How you feelin’ about that?” 

“I think it’s awesome!” Mabel leaps up from the counter and flings her bedazzled sleeves into the air. “Everything’s so old and… woody!” 

Dipper’s mouth is set in a straight line. “I’m still... figuring it out.” 

It’s at that point Stan walks in, suited and booted with the fez atop his head and his eyepatch flipped up, holding a broom in one hand and a spray bottle of glass cleaner and a rag in the other. 

“Alright people, look alive, we’ve got an hour before the morning tour bus rolls in - and I want this place lookin’... I mean, not sparklin’, ‘cause this is a shack ‘n all, but - y’know, presentable.” He takes a look at his now four-strong team of employees before levelling his gaze at Wendy and Soos. “You two met the new additions? Great.” He tosses the broom to Dipper, who awkwardly fumbles to catch it with a vague noise of distress. “Hup to, buddy. Your mom said you’re allergic to pollen, not chores.” 

“Wh - Grunkle Stan!” Dipper protests, and now he sounds a lot more like a twelve year old - but Stan ignores it as he tosses the rag and glass cleaner to Mabel, who looks equally disillusioned. 

“Aw, Grunkle Stan, can’t we join your tour instead?” 

If Mabel’s large brown doe eyes and long eyelashes have any effect whatsoever on Stan, he does a masterful job of concealing it. “You’ll learn more about what this place has to offer through workin’ here. Anyway, those brains in jars need a polish.” 

The clock strikes nine, and Stan claps his hands. “And let the workday begin!” 

Mabel sighs and squirts some cleaner onto the nearest glass surface - a display of snow globes - and Dipper starts aimlessly sweeping, muttering mutinously under his breath. 

If this is how they react to basic chores, Wendy doesn’t want to think about how they’ll handle being told to clean the guest bathrooms. 

“Welcome to Gravity Falls, dudes,” she offers as she slides her magazine out from under the cash desk, and the two of them look up from their respective jobs to give her identical scowls. “Enjoy your stay.”


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> post-Double Dipper, it's a bit rushed because I wrote it in like two hours but please enjoy 
> 
> (Double Dipper is my favourite episode because there's ten Dippers, how could you not love that)

It’s when they’re both slumped on the couch, absently watching Mabel’s new friends cheer her on as she all too happily reprises the wormy dance from earlier, that something else occurs to Wendy.

“Hey, Dipper.” 

Dipper jerks upright like someone’s shocked him with a cattle prod. “Um, yeah?” 

“There was something I meant to ask you,” Wendy starts, and Dipper’s eyes widen even more. “How come you lied about how old you and Mabel were?” 

That whole night had been so crazy that Dipper’s resigned confession of being ‘technically not a teen’ was hardly the most shocking revelation of the evening - but once it had occurred to her later, she’d had to wonder why. Wendy could remember barely waiting to turn thirteen herself… and then the bitter disillusionment that followed at the total lack of magical transformation into someone cooler. She was still awkward, still had her braces, and was still uncomfortably tall enough for her age that her dad’s drinking buddies (and subsequently half the town) had nicknamed her ‘Lurch’. 

Thankfully, carrying an axe in her back pocket during her free time had put that one to bed quickly enough. 

Back in the present, Dipper stiffens, and for a second Wendy wonders if he’s going to fall off the couch like one of those fainting goats. “Oh, that was - um, I mean - I, uh…” he looks away, and rubs the back of his neck. “I… did, didn’t I.” A sigh, as he stares into the depths of his soda cup. “Sorry. I guess that was kinda dumb, huh?” 

“It’s not a big deal, man,” Wendy reassures him, scooching a little closer. “I was just wondering why, that’s all. I mean, there’s not much of a difference between twelve and thirteen, you know?”

Dipper stares up at her, and for a moment he looks a lot younger than he is. “Really?” 

“Honestly, yeah.” Wendy shrugs. “I mean, you can watch PG-13 movies, but I can tell you right now that Thompson’s the head usher at the cinema and you could walk straight into an R without him noticing.” 

The kid thankfully laughs in response to that, some of the tension visibly slipping away from his small frame. “Hah, that’s awesome.” 

“Kinda is, yeah,” Wendy agrees with a grin, gently nudging him with her elbow. “So. Why’d you say you were thirteen again?” 

Dipper hesitates, before pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his folded arms on them. “I…” he trails off, bites his lip, and takes a deep breath. “I guess I was just really excited at the idea of hanging out with you - and your friends,” he hurries to add. “Y’know - like, the cool older kids.” Even under the disco lights, she can see the blush dusting his cheeks. “I guess… I didn’t want you guys to think I was, like, some dumb little kid or something.” 

Okay, so he sang a dumb song about a ‘lamby lamby’ and looked laughably adorable in the fluffy little lamb costume, but - the kid did what he had to. He could have just told the ghosts that he and Mabel weren’t teenagers and walked right out of there, but he chose to do something seriously embarrassing to save a bunch of kids he’d only met that night and who hadn’t hesitated in making fun of him. And honestly, Wendy respects him for it. 

“Dude, come on.” She flips the brim of his cap, and he stares up at her with those wide eyes again. “You saved all our asses back there. Trust me, nobody’s gonna think you’re a dumb little kid after that.” 

Dipper just smiles shyly, rubbing at his arm. “Even if I did the Lamby Lamby dance?” 

“Dunno what you’re talking about, man.” Wendy draws an imaginary zip across her mouth before flicking away the key, and she can see how Dipper’s eyes light up before he quickly does the same. 

“Dipper!” The moment’s abruptly broken as Mabel bounces to a halt in front of them, waving her arms as the opening bars of one of the summer's more upbeat hits start to fill the room. “Come on! You haven’t danced all night!” 

“Mabel, I don’t really - woah!” Dipper’s cut off as his sister grabs his arm and abruptly yanks him off the couch, pulling him onto the dancefloor as her friends cheer. 

Wendy grins as she stands and stretches. “Mabel’s right. We gotta fix that.” 

Dipper’s starting to back away like a panicked animal. “Wait, no, it’s -” 

Before he can finish his sentence, Wendy’s grabbed him by the waist and hoisted him into the air. “Woohoo!”

_ “Wendy!” _ Dipper wails, but Wendy ignores him as she lets the music take them, laughing as she swings him round the dancefloor with his skinny little legs flying - he barely weighs anything, and at some point his frantic protests devolve into giggles, peals of laughter that bounce off the Shack’s walls along with hers. Soos hops down from the podium at some point and grabs Mabel, who squeals in delight as he tosses her into the air before catching her and swinging her around, and the taller one of Mabel’s friends grabs the smaller one and does the exact same.

For the few minutes that the song lasts, it’s just sheer, undulated joy and adrenaline - and by the time the six of them collapse in a giggling heap on the couch, Mabel splayed across Soos’s stomach and Dipper sprawled across Wendy’s lap... 

...honestly? She can’t even remember the last time she’s laughed this hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! please do leave a comment if you're feeling so inclined, they give me life


	3. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is set just after Fight Fighters - not sure I did the two of them justice but I hope so. I get the impression Wendy is pretty chilled about relationships in general.
> 
> (NOTE as of 05/10/2020: if you're here for the update, it's actually the previous chapter as I've had to do some rearranging!)

“ - so then Thompson literally tripped and fell into the wasp nest, right, and then the wasps all flew out and started, like,  _ chasing _ him,” Robbie tells her, barely able to contain his amusement. “He looked so dumb running away,” this statement is punctuated with a snigger. “I wish you’d been there.” 

“I wish I had too,” Wendy agrees with a laugh - not that Thompson won’t get himself into even more trouble while she’s around to witness it, but each predicament’s always unique in its own way. “It sounds like you guys had fun, anyway.” 

There’s a pause, before a crackle of static indicates that Robbie’s exhaled into his phone. “I still don’t get why you work that dumb job.”

“I told you,” Wendy counters, feeling a slight flare of annoyance. She finds herself repeating stuff to Robbie, her supposed boyfriend, fairly often - and every time she wonders if he’s genuinely this forgetful or if he just hadn’t been paying attention. “My dad said, get a job in Gravity Falls or go and work at my cousin’s logging camp upstate - and taking people’s money is way easier than cutting wood all day. Plus it hurts less.” 

“Right, right,” Robbie says a little too quickly, “but… I mean, just - Mr. Pines is so weird, and so are those kids - and the big guy’s kinda… well. You seriously don’t want to do something else?” 

“What, like pour coffee all day at Greasy’s? No. And don’t talk about them that way, they’re cool.”

“Yeah, especially the half-pint dork in the shorts,” Robbie’s tone is practically buckling under the weight of its sarcasm. “I bet he’s  _ really _ cool, but only, like, when literally no-one else is around, right?” 

“He saved all our asses from those ghosts at the abandoned convenience store,” Wendy fires back. “Including yours.” 

Granted, Robbie doesn’t need to know that he was saved by Dipper sacrificing his dignity to prance around in a lamb costume, but either way it was a move that took guts - and Wendy still respects him for it.

“I - I totally coulda fought them off myself!” Robbie splutters defensively on the other end of the line. “Plus, the little freak started it by lying down in that outline!” 

_ Dipper stands in front of her, hat in one hand and his expression resolute as he lifts his fringe with the other. On his forehead there’s an array of pink lines and dots that come together to perfectly form... _

_ “The Big Dipper…! That’s how you got your nickname!” Wendy gasps, eyes widening. “I always thought your parents hated you or something.” She grins down at him as he puts his hat back on. “Hey. I guess we’re both freaks.”  _

_ A shy smile lights Dipper’s face as he grabs another red cup and bumps it against hers in a toast. _

Wendy really doesn’t like that. It’s okay for Dipper to call her lanky twelve year old self a freak - she was easily half a foot taller than the rest of the girls in their grade - and it’s okay for her to say the same for him and his weirdly perfectly shaped birthmark because that’s not normal, but it’s  _ okay _ for him to not be normal. It’s something they have in common. 

When Wendy says it, it’s affectionate. When Robbie says it… she likes Robbie, she really does, he’s one of her oldest friends and now they’re dating, but - whatever way she looks at it, when he says it like that it’s just mean. “Robbie, don’t call him that.” 

“He is, though,” Robbie argues. “Whenever he’s around, weird shit always happens. Including the other day. Haven’t you noticed that?” 

“If that’s the case, how come you were hanging out with him?” Wendy challenges. She’d really hoped that they were getting along in her absence, but Dipper’s right eye (which he still wouldn’t give her the full story on) was even blacker at work today - and then Stan pulled her aside and let her know in no uncertain terms that if Robbie came around the Shack with his guitar and amp again, he would not hesitate to grab one of his ten guns. 

_ “You…” Wendy tries to get her head around everything her boss has just told her. “You have ten guns…?” _

_ “Got ‘em in case some maniac tried to bring ladders into my house,” Stan says, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Not really much point now since I’m over my fear of heights ‘n all - but you gotta protect yourself, Wendy. There’s some real dangerous weirdos out there.”  _

“Wh- I wasn’t,” Robbie says defensively. “I just, uh... ran into him.” 

“Sure. So I guess you wouldn’t know anything about his black eye, then?” 

“What?!” Robbie sounds genuinely panicked. “No, babe, listen, I had nothing to do with that. I swear.” 

“Then how’d it happen?” 

“Like we said, we were... trying to stop two other guys from fighting! Why would we fight? I’m fifteen and he’s, like… ten. It’d be, like, totally stupid. I’m smarter than that.” He pauses. “Obviously.”

“Okay, but you’ve still had it in for Dipper ever since I invited them to the convenience store,” Wendy points out. “What’s your problem with him, anyway? He’s a good kid. Have you seen what he’s like with his sister?” The sibling bond Dipper and Mabel have honestly gives Wendy a slight pang of jealousy - Gus and Kevin are little shits and Marcus barely even acknowledges her existence half the time - but she can’t begrudge them for it. 

“I…” Robbie trails off, sounding uncertain of himself, and then there’s another crackle of static as he exhales again. “I just don’t like how much he, like… sniffs around you. You spend ages with him at work and then I don’t get to see you unless I come up and hang out - and Mr. Pines kinda… makes me nervous, actually - and then he can’t even leave you alone outside of work either.” The words come out in a rush, making Wendy stop and think. She has been hanging out a lot with Dipper recently, both at the Mystery Shack and in her free time. “And…” Robbie sounds a little more vulnerable now. “I mean, you’re my girlfriend. I just want to spend time with you, you know?” 

“Aw, Robbie…” Wendy sighs. “I didn’t know it was bothering you that much. I mean…” she trails off, and she’s unable to stop the snigger that bubbles up in her chest. “Enough that you’re jealous of a twelve year old, anyway.” 

“I’m not jealous!” Robbie protests indignantly. “I just don’t get why he can’t make friends his own age!” 

“He’s mature enough to hang with us,” Wendy counters. “I think he’s just growing up a bit faster than other kids, you know? Nothing wrong with that.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Robbie mutters darkly. “I bet he’s got loads of older friends back in… Nevada or whatever.” 

“California,” Wendy corrects. She’s getting tired of this conversation. “Look, Robbie, I’m sorry you were feeling sidelined, and I’ll do my best to make more time for us to hang - but Dipper’s my friend too, and I’m not gonna cut him off. Having him and Mabel around actually makes my job kinda…” she trails off, realisation dawning. “Fun.” 

Robbie makes a noise that sounds like a grumble of grudging agreement. “Fine, whatever. Have it your way.” 

“Don’t be like that,” Wendy tells him. “You know I still want to hang out with you too, right?” 

A crackle as Robbie sighs. “Yeah, sure.” 

“I mean it, Robbie. You don’t need to work yourself up about it so much. I’ll see you tomorrow after I get off, yeah?"

When Robbie responds, he sounds a little warmer. “Sure thing. Night.” 

“Night, Robbie.” Before they can get into a loop of ‘you hang up’, ‘no  _ you _ hang up’, Wendy snaps her phone shut and flops down onto her bed with a soft  _ thump. _

She feels a little guilty - she hadn’t realised the amount of time she was spending with Dipper had bothered Robbie so much, but it’s also kind of ridiculous that he’s this wound up about her friendship with a younger kid. She doesn’t need any more little brothers - two is plenty - but Dipper’s smart, and pretty funny sometimes, and it’s literally impossible to be bored with Mabel and her sweaters around anyway and there’s always  _ something _ going on with the two of them that makes her laugh. 

Until she’d said it aloud, Wendy hadn’t even realised that she’d started enjoying being at work. She’d made it more bearable for herself with her little break setup on the roof, but suddenly having two little sidekicks to throw pine cones and have random dance parties in the gift shop with had made it a lot more… well, fun. She was so prepared for summer to be boring, but actually, three weeks have already passed - and she’s barely even noticed. 

Wendy squints at the calendar on her desk, which tells her that she’s got just over two months of summer left. 

_ Better make the most of it. _


	4. four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have ideas but the actual words are basically being made up as I go along

Tambry remains hunched over her phone, thumbs tapping as she squints at the little screen. “You know that kid Digger-”

“Dipper.”

  
  
“Whatever. You know he definitely has a crush on you, right?” 

Wendy really doesn’t want to, because that’s about to open up a box that she would really much rather stay closed. “Come on, Tambry.” She punctuates the sentence with an awkward laugh. “He’s twelve. He probably just thinks I’m cool because I’m older.” 

Tambry actually lifts her eyes from her phone to stare at Wendy, and her black-ringed gaze is penetrating. “He was following you around all night at that party. He kept staring at you that time at the convenience store when he thought you weren’t looking. You seriously haven’t noticed?” 

Wendy has. It had started out gradually - at first, she’d taken the awkward way he would hover nearby sometimes for shyness, but then she’d noticed that it seemed to dissipate fairly quickly whenever he was around Soos. The eagerness and excitement in his voice whenever she suggested goofing off, she’d hoped was just because he was excited to hang out with someone older - after all, he’s pretty desperate to get ahead of himself. God only knows why, because being twelve was way less stressful than being fifteen is. 

But Wendy does have ears - and the stuff Dipper mutters under his breath when her back is turned is a bit harder to explain away… and pretty much the opposite of subtle. 

_“I could play this game forever…”_

Also, the snatched _‘I love you’_ she thought she might have heard as she left him to get napkins at the Shack’s funfair was pretty obvious - but she had really been hoping she’d just misheard him.

Come to think of it, also the scowls and dark glares he and Robbie have been exchanging when they think she's not looking. 

_God damn it,_ Wendy curses internally. She was really hoping she’d just been overthinking it, but if Tambry’s actually noticed enough to make eye contact with her over it it’s not a good sign.

And it’s not like Dipper’s just some annoying little kid Wendy can brush off or avoid - she actually likes having him around, for a start. He’s smart, snarky and funny enough when he’s not trying too hard, and even though he’s a total nerd he can also be just as goofy as Mabel, and hanging out with him at the Mystery Shack making fun of tourists (and often enough, Stan) is actually - well, fun. And prior to this summer, ‘Mystery Shack’ and ‘fun’ are not terms Wendy would have associated with each other - regardless of how much Soos might beg to differ. 

The fact that he and his sister literally live at her workplace doesn’t make it any easier, either. Or that he’s her boss’s nephew, although in fairness Stan doesn’t seem to hold any favouritism towards him. In fact, Stan would probably just find the idea hilarious. 

Wendy groans aloud, and the upward quirk of the corner of Tambry’s mouth would be almost imperceptible to someone who hadn’t known her for twelve years. 

Oh God, twelve years ago - that’s when Dipper was _born._

Wendy rests her head in her hands, her fingertips raking into her hair and pushing her hat upwards, and groans even louder. 

“I’m totally right, aren’t I.” Tambry’s statement isn’t even a question, and Wendy sighs, reaching for her now-lukewarm cup of coffee - Lazy Susan is off in her own world behind the counter, happily humming along to some oldies song on the radio as the coffee maker starts to overflow. 

“Honestly, I was kinda hoping you weren’t.” 

“Too bad.” Tambry takes a sip of her own coffee without even taking her eyes off her phone, and makes a face. “Ew, it’s cold.” 

Wendy stares into the dark depths of her cup. “Man, this is so annoying.” 

“Why?” Wendy glances up, and oh, crap - Tambry’s actually making eye contact again. “He’s just a kid. It’s not like it’s a big deal.” 

“He’s my friend,” Wendy points out, and Tambry’s right eyebrow raises a fraction of an inch. “I mean, obviously nothing’s gonna happen, but - I dunno.” She looks down at the table, tapping her finger against her coffee cup. “Letting him down’s gonna be hard, that’s all.” 

Tambry shrugs, and returns her attention to her phone. Wendy drums the fingers of her other hand against the sticky tabletop and lets her gaze drift to the window. It’s mostly sunny outside, but every now and then the full, velvety clouds drift across the bright blue sky, lit up in silver by the bright glow behind them. 

It doesn’t take a genius to work it out, but Dipper and Mabel’s friendship is actually starting to mean something to Wendy - Dipper’s especially. She's not sure how it happened, but it just _did_ and this is where they're at now. This is the first summer she’s actually vaguely started looking forward to going into work, and absently she wonders what the two of them are up to with Soos at the moment. 

Probably using him as a human bouncy castle. 

Tambry might be right, but there’s no reason Wendy has to deal with it right this instant. It’s not a problem right now, and even if that is the case, if Dipper hasn’t said anything about it…

...then neither will she. 

And yet, a vague feeling of unease nibbles at the pit of her stomach as she stares into her coffee again. 

It’ll work itself out, one way or another. 

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! comments keep me going


	5. five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakup or not, Wendy still has to go to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this one took a while but I've been looking forward to it for ages! I was concerned about the characterisation so I really hope everything's plausible here. I figured considering Wendy's attitude to Robbie asking her out in the first place she was never particularly hung up on him to start with and probably just more frustrated that he wasted her time?

“And then he literally asks if I want to go bowling?! Ugh!” Wendy angrily drains the rest of her coffee and _slams_ the cup down on the sticky wooden table, causing the rest of the crockery to rattle - and Tambry’s coffee to slosh over the rim of her cup, trickling down the side. Tambry glances up for approximately two seconds to look at it disdainfully before she returns her attention to her phone. “Why are guys so... self-absorbed?!” 

“He’s, like, ten.” Tambry says in a monotone, thumbs flying over her touchscreen. “Hardly counts as a guy.” 

“Yeah, he’s just a kid,” Wendy agrees, drumming her fingers against the tabletop. “But Stan, too - like, he drove him there and all. He’s supposed to be the adult here, and he was basically… like, _encouraging_ him.” 

She groans, pushing her plate away and dropping her head into her arms. She’s not even that bothered about Robbie any more - once she’d spent the evening seething and swinging her axe into one of the several tree stumps in the woods around their house to vent some of her rage, the prevailing emotions left were mainly disgust at how much of a poser he actually was and frustration at Dipper’s single-mindedness and Stan's apparent support of his actions. 

Unfortunately, she still works at the Mystery Shack, where Stan happens to live. And run the business. And Dipper lives there with him. 

“God,” she moans, turning her head to glance at the window. It’s already late afternoon, and the sun is beginning to descend on the valley enclosing Gravity Falls. “I _really_ don’t wanna go to work tomorrow.” 

“You could always quit and work here,” Tambry suggests dryly. Wendy lifts her head to look over at Lazy Susan, who’s standing on a ladder and smacking her fist repeatedly against the top of the pie display case. 

“SPIN, YA DUMB MACHINE!”

Nearby, Old Man McGucket drains his sixth cup of coffee in half an hour and flings the cup straight into the wooden floorboards, causing everyone in the immediate vicinity to jump as the shards of ceramic fly. _“YEEHAW!”_

Wendy sighs and drops her head on her folded arms again with a soft _thump._ “Yeah, I don’t think that’s an option.” 

* * *

And just like that her day off is over, and Wendy has to reluctantly head into work. 

She considers calling in ‘sick’ - and she’s still pissed at Dipper and Stan, although the flame of righteous anger and frustration that had burned in her chest a few days before has dimmed a little - but her dad makes them all go to school or work (delete as appropriate), whatever condition they’re in, because they’re _Corduroys_ and _Corduroys are tough_ and _Corduroys don’t get sick, damn it._ So there’s no chance with him. And if Wendy tells him she’s heading to work and goofs off around town instead, there’s the very real possibility that she’ll run into Soos - or worse, Stan. As much as she doesn’t want to deal with him right now, he’s still the man who pays her to sit on her ass reading magazines and occasionally taking people’s cash. 

And so, Wendy reluctantly heads into work. 

When she opens the door to the gift shop, the bell tinkling to announce her arrival, Dipper and Stan are nowhere to be seen - but Mabel’s there, happily spinning Waddles around to an eighties power ballad on the radio. At the sound of the bell, she whips around, still clutching her pig - but her big brown eyes light up, her brace-filled smile stretching even wider, and there’s no trace of embarrassment or awkwardness at being caught in the act of just being herself. 

Not that Mabel should ever be embarrassed, because she’s awesome, and Wendy will make sure she doesn’t forget it. 

“Wendy!” Mabel waves one of Waddles’s little hooves at her. Her sweater today is purple, with a silver moon stitched on the front and stars scattered along the sleeves. “Come and join us!” 

The dread and apprehension that had been gnawing at the inside of Wendy’s chest instantly evaporate, and she returns the smile with a quirk of her mouth. Mabel tends to have that effect on people. “It’s okay, dude. I prefer music from the decades I was actually alive in.” 

“Boooo,” Mabel jeers as the song comes to an end, setting Waddles down on the seeing-eye rug. The pig snuffles and trots off in the direction of the living room. “Some of the greatest music to ever grace the universe came out of the eighties! And the fashion!” She twirls and comes to the edge of the counter with a wistful sigh, climbing onto the stool behind it. “Our dad sometimes says he thinks I was born in the wrong decade.” 

“Well, this decade would be pretty lame without you, so I’ll take it,” Wendy tells her, and Mabel grins at her again. “So…” she doesn’t really want to ask, but she’d rather give herself more time to come up with an escape plan if necessary, “...where’s your brother?” 

“Off doing something dumb with Soos,” Mabel tells her, making herself comfy on the barrel beside the cash desk. “And Grunkle Stan’s doing a tour.” 

“Cool.” Wendy rounds the cash desk to take the seat beside her, sliding her magazine out from under the counter. Mabel sings tunelessly under her breath to the radio and busies herself with decorating the barrel with a sheet of stickers she’s produced from somewhere within the depths of her sweater, and Wendy snickers to herself as she flips another page. _Stick it to the man, kid._

When the song comes to an end, however, is when Mabel seemingly decides to approach the elephant in the room. “So, um… I heard you and Robbie broke up.” 

Wendy’s stomach drops, and she hopes it’s not too obvious - but then Mabel’s big doe eyes are staring up at her from behind the cash register, directly in front of her. “Are you okay, Wendy?” 

“Who’d you hear it from?”

The way Mabel averts her eyes makes the answer pretty obvious, and Wendy just offers her a smile that she hopes is soft but is probably just awkward. “Dude, it’s okay. I’d been thinking about breaking up with him anyway. Besides, I know you guys didn’t like Robbie.” 

“What?” Mabel scoffs, and the way her voice rises several octaves doesn’t really lend much conviction to her statement. “No, he was… great! I really liked his, um…” she trails off, and Wendy can tell she’s desperately searching for something nice to say, “...gloves… without fingers?” 

“Mabel, he’s an idiot.” A flame of anger starts to flicker in Wendy’s chest, slowly creeping upwards. “And a liar. You don’t have to pretend to be nice.” 

Mabel visibly sags in relief. “Oh, thank goodness. I try to see the good in everyone, but with Robbie it’s kind of hard.” She climbs onto the counter and leans her back against the cash register, stretching her skinny little legs out and crossing one white-socked ankle over the other. 

“So…” her tone is laden with forced nonchalance, and as she tilts her head towards Wendy it’s obvious she’s watching for a reaction. “Dipper told me what happened.” 

Wendy leans forward, resting on her elbows. “So he told you about him and Stan crashing my date, too?” 

A grimace tugs at the corner of Mabel’s mouth. “Um… kinda, yeah.” She sighs. “I apologise on my brother and uncle’s behalf.” Her little shoulders lift in an exaggerated shrug, like she’s trying to project an air of experience that would be beyond her twelve years. “Boys are really dumb sometimes, huh?” 

Wendy can feel the warm flicker of a sincere laugh, bubbling up from her chest, and before she can stop it it’s escaped her lips as a snicker. Just being around Mabel is making her feel lighter, somehow. “Dude, you don’t have to apologise. They’re the ones who ruined everything, not you.” 

“I know,” Mabel concedes, twisting around to face Wendy and crossing her legs. “It’s just, like… Dipper and Stan are two of my favourite guys in the world, but I’m really annoyed they upset you, you know? But…” she tugs at the arm of her sweater uncomfortably, “...I mean, Robbie’s kind of a jerk. So I guess it did work out, in a way?” 

“Can’t deny that,” Wendy admits, resting her head on one hand. “And I’m sure Dipper probably thought he was doing me a favour, but he went about it totally wrong, and then he just asked if I wanted to go _bowling_ \- like I didn’t just find out my boyfriend lied to me about doing something really sweet, you know? And I know you guys are just kids and there’s still a lot to learn, but, like - I’m pretty sure you’re both smarter than that.” 

Mabel toys with her cuff, averting her eyes again, and for a second Wendy worries if she might have gone too far. Both of those kids are easier to read than they realise, and it doesn’t take a psychic to know she’s probably thinking carefully about what she’s going to say next. 

Eventually, she decides. “I think Dipper felt really bad about it afterwards. He was up pacing for half the night, and then he tripped over Waddles and smacked himself right in the face with the loose floorboard.”

“What, like - right in the…?”

“Yeah,” Mabel sniggers, and Wendy can’t deny that the mental image is kind of funny - before she promptly returns her focus to the issue at hand.

“If he’s sorry, he can tell me that himself.” Mabel glances at her with an expression somewhere between discomfort and guilt. “I mean, you’re right, in a way - Robbie was a jerk, and he lied to me, and even though Dipper totally crossed the line, if he hadn’t shown me that recording I guess I’d still be wasting my time thinking he actually wrote that song for me. I’m glad I’m not dating him any more, but… just, like, read the room, you know?” 

“Are you still mad at him?” Mabel ventures, and Wendy considers. She was, at one point, but by now it’s just kind of distilled into… somewhere between irritation and exasperation. What Dipper did was dumb, and shitty - and she’s still annoyed at Stan for encouraging it - but it’s not like she didn’t do dumb or selfish stuff as a kid, either. Learning from your mistakes is what’s important. “Because he was, like, freaking out that you hated him.” 

“Of course I don’t hate him.” The words are out of Wendy’s mouth before she’s even realised it, and Mabel’s eyes instantly light up, widening to the size of diner plates. “He was just being a dumbass. There’s no point in me dying mad about it.” Before Mabel can scramble off the counter to go and relay the news, Wendy reaches out and grabs her arm. “But - just let me tell him that myself, okay?” 

“Okay!” Mabel’s still practically vibrating in place, clapping her little hands together excitedly. “But yay, you guys are still friends! I’m so glad!” 

She can’t help but smile at that. You’d have to be missing your soul to not be charmed by Mabel’s enthusiasm. “I mean, I’m not really here for some twin divide, you know? You guys are pretty much a package deal.” 

“Yeah we are!” Mabel jumps off the counter and bounces in place. Her sneakers light up and start flashing again, but they’re nowhere near as bright as her smile. “I’m just so relieved! I thought I was going to have to like, hang out with you guys separately, and that would _suck_ and -” 

The kid’s joy is infectious, and Wendy can’t help laughing in spite of herself. “Nah, man, I couldn’t do that to you guys. Just let me talk to Dipper first, alright?” 

“Sure thing, sister!” Mabel straightens her back and salutes, but that megawatt grin is still plastered firmly in place. “Ahhh, I’m so excited, I gotta go hug Waddles!” 

And before Wendy can say anything else she’s off, crashing through the living room door, and Wendy simply smiles to herself as she drums her fingers against the countertop and resumes reading her magazine. 

Of course, the peace doesn’t last for long; Stan comes through the velvet curtains with a crowd of tourists approximately five minutes later, and Wendy is forced to put the magazine down and start ringing up a seemingly endless amount of T-shirts, snowglobes and keyrings. For some reason, they’re even slower counting out the right amount of cash from their wallets today - or wanting change from a fifty for a seven-dollar keyring - and she has to will herself to stay cool as the queue at the cash register increases… but eventually, gradually, it starts to peter out, and a wave of relief sweeps over her with the last dollar that she takes. 

“Thanks again for visitin’ the Mystery Shack!” Mr. Mystery calls from the porch as the tourists load onto their bus, showman’s grin still firmly in place. “And remember, we put the ‘fun’ in ‘no refunds’!”

The bell dings as the gift shop door closes, and Wendy and Stan exhale in unison, with Stan removing his eyepatch and loosening his tie. 

Silence descends with the realisation that it’s just the two of them in the gift shop now, and Wendy wills herself to keep her eyes trained on the countertop. She’s not sure if she’s still pissed at Stan, either - but she can’t give him the same free pass she gave Dipper. He’s an adult, and - yeah, okay, he’s not exactly a peak role model, he taught her how to hotwire cars - but he’s taking care of Dipper and Mabel for the summer, and he’s supposed to be setting an example. Probably. 

She doesn’t look up when Stan clears his throat, awkwardly so. “Uhm. Wendy. You got a sec?” 

Wendy still doesn’t look up. “Maybe.” 

A loud, old-guy sigh follows. “Alright. Outside.” 

Reluctantly, Wendy pushes herself upright and rises from her seat, following him out to the porch. It’s just coming up on midday, and the sky is a bright, rich blue, illuminating the lush greenery of the forest beyond. Stan takes a seat on the musty old yellow couch and pats the cushion beside him, but she just perches on the edge of the armrest instead. 

Part of her hopes he’s about to apologise, but knowing Stan, it seems unlikely. 

The only sounds are the caw of a bird in the distance and Stan grunting as he rummages in a cooler at the side of the couch, before he withdraws two Pitt Colas and tosses one to her. It’s damp with condensation, but pleasantly cold, and she touches it to her forehead before she pops the tab. Stan takes a long, deep sip of his own can, drumming his fingers against his thigh and staring out at the grounds of the Shack with a blank expression. 

Eventually, Wendy has to break the silence. “Mr. Pines,” it feels weird calling him that - but this could be semi-serious boss-employee talks, so maybe it’s worth trying to remain professional, “did you want to talk about something?” 

Stan coughs into his fist. “Ah, yeah. I sorta - um, y’know. Wanted to see how you’re doin’. After…” he trails off, looks away. “Y’know.” 

“You and Dipper crashing my date with Robbie and breaking us up?” Wendy challenges. 

For a man of so few scruples, Stan at least has the good grace to look embarrassed. “Somethin’ like that, yeah.” 

Wendy takes a swig of her own cola, and the carbonated bubbles burn her throat a little as she swallows. “I’m okay, I guess. Robbie’s an idiot and I’m better off not dating someone who’s lying to me the whole time.” 

“Oh, thank God,” Stan exhales, and Wendy turns on him - to his apparent dismay.

“That doesn’t mean you guys are off the hook, y’know. Dipper’s just a kid, but - seriously, Stan?” How can he be so simple-minded? “You’re a grown man. You should know better.” 

“Alright, alright,” Stan holds his hands up, an edge of defensiveness flaring in his tone. “Listen - I mighta got… caught up in helpin’ the kid, but I had good reason.” 

“What good reason could you possibly have?! It was none of your business!” Wendy flings her arm out frustratedly. “It’s my personal life, and you’re my boss!” 

“When that good-for-nothin’ punk comes onto my premises and shit-talks my nephew, it’s my business,” Stan says, his rough voice tinged with the heat of argument. “And - _oy,”_ he groans heavily, broad shoulders slumping as he sinks back into the lumpy couch cushions. “Kid, I’m gonna level with ya.”

Something about the way he’s seemingly resigned himself piques Wendy’s curiosity, and she sits forward, brow creasing as she rests the soda can on her thigh. “What?” 

Stan sighs again. “Listen, hon, you’re probably the one teenager in this town I actually have time for. You're worth way more than that twerp.” As Wendy opens her mouth to protest, he adds, “Goofus and his sister don’t count, they’re not teens yet, and I had no hope in hell of getting rid of Soos once he latched on to this place. And -” he closes his mouth, gesturing aimlessly as he searches for the right words. “That Valentino kid comes into my house, insults my family and walks out like nothin’ happened? Okay, I admit it.” He shrugs, raising his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “I mighta… jumped at the chance to take him down a peg... or three. Maybe physically more than metaphorically, but I guess Dips had the goods, y’know?” 

The revelation dims the flame of Wendy’s righteous indignation, just a touch. It’s a pretty forthright confession for a grumpy old guy from the east coast, and knowing that there’s some twisted sense of logic to it - as ridiculously dumb as it is - at least puts it into context a little bit. And yeah, Stan’s cranky and miserly and any attempt from him at showing affection is usually smothered by a veneer of gruffness or forced indifference, but it goes without saying that he’d lay down his life for his family. 

And in a weird way, that’s… sort of what the Mystery Shack gang is. It’s a second home for Wendy, a place where she hangs out even if she’s not scheduled to work - just to get away from the stress of home. Stan doesn’t necessarily welcome her with open arms, but he doesn’t have to - the little things, like the way he shrugs and gestures in the direction of the kitchen or the living room or the fact that he always has plenty of sodas in, say enough. 

That is, if a family can consist of a grouchy old Jewish uncle, a pair of polar opposite and perhaps slightly less Jewish twins from California, a big Latino man-child and a seventh-generation Scottish lumberjack. 

“Okay, fine,” a sigh, as she pushes her fingers underneath her trapper hat to rub at her temples. “But - it’s my life, you know? Even if Dipper hadn’t shown me the recording, I would have realised Robbie’s an ass sooner or later. Did you really need to just…” she gestures helplessly, “...crash in like that?” 

Stan shrugs again and takes another swig of his cola. “Honestly, kid, that was kinda tame compared to what I did in the same situation back east.” 

Wendy’s still annoyed, but she can’t deny that she wants to know more. The general way Stan handles life and everything it throws at him implies one hell of a story. “What did you -”

“Stole her hippie boyfriend’s van and drove it into a ravine,” comes the reply, almost casually so. The old man’s just gazing out at the trees like it’s the most normal thing in the world, completely oblivious to the way Wendy’s jaw drops as she stares at him, speechless. She knew Stan probably didn’t become the town crook without some kind of interesting backstory, but that’s still… 

“....how old were you?” 

“Seventeen. And I didn’t hotwire it, I pickpocketed the keys from those godforsaken flared pants of his.” 

Wendy can’t stop the disbelieving laugh that escapes her throat. “Dude, Stan. You’ve _got_ to show me that trick sometime.” 

“When you’re older.” Stan rises from the couch and stretches, wincing as something _‘pops’_ in his back. “The point is, we all do dumb shit from time to time, but - you’re right. Dipper’s gonna be a knucklehead while he’s figurin’ it all out, but I guess I just got caught up in it.” He drains the last of his soda, before crushing the can in his large fist. “So - y’know. Try not to stay mad at the squirt for too long. Kid’s been twistin’ himself into knots the last couple days.” 

“Dipper’s twelve, Stan,” Wendy reminds him. “He didn’t drive himself there.” 

Stan groans, tipping his head back in exasperation.

“Oy, you’re really takin’ me to task on this one, aren’t cha?” Wendy simply stares him down expectantly, and the old man sighs, rolling his eyes. “Fine. I’m sorry my little dumbass of a nephew crashed your date and ruined your relationship with that punk -”

_“Ahem.”_

“ - and I’m sorry I helped him, alright?” 

Close enough - it actually involved the words ‘I’m sorry’, for one thing. “Thanks. And it’s okay, I guess.” 

“Yeah, yeah, guess we all screw up from time to time - even me,” Stan mutters gruffly, waving a hand in dismissal. “Anyway, finish your soda and get back to work. I don’t pay you to sit on your ass.” 

Wendy snickers as she lifts the can to her lips and takes a long swig, knowing full well that he does. 

* * *

Dipper and Soos don’t return until the sun’s setting, trudging out of the forest surrounding the edge of the Shack’s premises. Mabel’s inside, ‘helping’ Stan restock - basically, trying to build a T-shirt fort when he’s not looking. Above the endless landscape of dark pine trees, the evening sky is cast with a warm glow, the rose gold light of the sun illuminating the few bluish-grey clouds that drift overhead. 

Wendy’s watching it from her seat on the wooden porch steps, drinking another soda poached from Stan’s cooler round the other side. She waves her arm to greet them, and while Dipper visibly freezes up, almost tripping over his own feet, Soos’s face lights up and he raises one big arm to wave back. 

“Hi, Wendy!” 

“Hey, dudes,” she grins as they approach, Soos picking up his stride a little more and Dipper fumbling to keep up. “You have a…” she looks them both up and down. Soos’s hat, T-shirt and shorts have visible scorch marks, while the ends of Dipper’s hair and the outer padding of his vest look distinctly singed. “....good day?” 

“Had a run-in with a scampfire,” Soos explains like it's the most normal thing in the world, completely oblivious to the way Dipper’s averting his eyes and rubbing at his arm. “Dipper had to throw our last bag of marshmallows at it to get it to leave us alone.”

Wendy can feel the way her brow creases in confusion. “Why would you take marshmallows with you?” 

Soos just looks nonplussed in return. “Why wouldn’t you?” 

Fair enough. Wendy shrugs, jerking her thumb at the gift shop door. “Stan had me restock the freezer today. Ice cream bars if you want ‘em.” 

“Aw, dude, you know I do.” Soos makes a beeline for the door - but Dipper lingers behind, gaze darting between the grass, the porch step, the roof, and basically anywhere but Wendy’s face.

“You okay, man?” 

“Wh-” his head jerks up in surprise, eyes finally meeting hers. To say he looks nervous would be an understatement. “Y-y-yeah, I mean - um -” he looks away and bites his lip, before slowly, almost reluctantly dragging his gaze back to hers. “Are… are you?” 

She shrugs. “Yeah, I guess so.” 

His eyes widen, all the wound-up tension visibly leaving his small frame as his arms fall to his sides. “Really?” 

“Yeah, dude.”

“Oh, that’s - that’s great.” Dipper shoves his hands in the pockets of his vest, staring at his shoes. 

For a few moments, the only sound is the branches of the trees rustling in the gentle evening breeze and a lone _slurp_ from Wendy drinking her soda. Dipper awkwardly clears his throat and rocks back on his heels, still looking a little unsteady on his feet. Wendy’s about to open her mouth to say something when he finally speaks. 

“Wendy, I’m…” he lifts one hand to rub at the back of his neck, before lifting his head to look at her. The visible aura of remorse practically rolls off him in waves, slumping his thin shoulders and tugging at his brow. He looks genuinely ashamed. “I’m so sorry for what I did. I was such an idiot.” 

“Yeah, you kinda were,” Wendy admits, gesturing with her can. “But at least you know that now, right?” 

“Totally,” Dipper agrees quickly, eagerly. “I shouldn’t have done it - it was none of my business. I’m so sorry, really.” 

“Dude, you already said it. It’s fine. I mean, in a weird way, I guess you did me a favour.”

His head perks up at that, eyes brightening - but as Wendy tilts her head to the side, pursing her lips, the spark just as quickly leaves him. “Just… assuming that I’d want to go bowling with you and Stan _right_ after finding out my boyfriend was a liar? Seriously?” 

“I know.” He slumps visibly again, voice laden with guilt. “I didn’t think about how you were feeling. I was a jerk.” 

“Nah, you’re alright - for a doofus, I mean.” 

Dipper smiles wanly, even as a little huff of laughter escapes his chest. “Yeah, that’s probably more than I deserve.” 

“Maybe.” She offers him a smile; he’s so earnest, and even if she’s only known him for a month or so she knows she can’t bring herself to hate him. “But doofus or not, I guess you’re still my friend.” 

He immediately snaps to attention, like someone’s fired electricity through his veins. “Wait, you mean -” his mouth flaps for a second, opening and closing soundlessly before he manages to form the right words, “you’re - you’re not mad?” 

“Not any more,” she tells him, and the smile that lights his face is almost enough to push the sun right back up into the sky. “You did something stupid, you realised you screwed up, you apologised, and I’m not wasting my time with a lying idiot. So… I guess we’re good.” 

“Oh my God, Wendy, _thank you!”_ Dipper lurches forward for a second, almost like he’s going to hug her, before he seemingly catches himself and straightens. “Oh God, I’m so relieved - I really thought-” he cuts himself off, fisting his hands in his hair, “I dunno, I just -”

“Dude, chill.” She has to laugh at how he’s acting like she’s just told him he managed to prevent a nuclear war. “It’s fine, okay?” 

“Okay,” he exhales. She pats the space beside her on the porch step, and he collapses bonelessly onto it, flopping backwards onto the weather-worn wooden boards. “Thanks.”

Wendy shrugs and takes another sip of her soda, a smile still tugging at the corner of her mouth. Maybe she has forgiven him pretty quickly - but it’s like she told Mabel earlier. There’s no point in dying mad about it. 

And that's how the evening sky finds them, sitting - or lying, in Dipper’s case, simply listening to the sounds of the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are fuel and are hugely welcomed ♡

**Author's Note:**

> comments bring me joy and give me life


End file.
